The Shadow on the Greenwood
by Over-hill-and-under-hill
Summary: Thranduil is left alone to raise his son after the death of his wife. And the shadow is growing over Greenwood The Great. A story following Legolas through childhood. Later on is going to feature Elrond, Celebrian, Glorfindel, Erestor, Arwen, Elladan, Elrohir, and Aragorn.


An ongoing story that follows Legolas as he grows up. Inspiration just randomly struck. Okay, If anyone can help me, what is Legolas' eye color? ( Book verse I mean) I imagine them as bright green, but I heard that they were gray? Does anyone know for certain? If anyone does, I'll change them to gray. But I like imagining them green. So many characters in lotr have gray eyes, its nice to imagine a little variation. Until I know for certain I'm just gonna say gray green. But if I find out it was never stated, I'm totally changing it to deep green. I kind of figure elven babies are born a little more developed then humans. Not anything big, just maybe less wrinkly and more alert. Maybe with more movement. Also, with eye colors already established. I dunno. I have this head cannon where Thranduil is super protective of his son, because his wife dies, and he keeps him with him all the time. So there's daddy Thranduil with baby Leggy in a sling, trying to have an important meeting while his son chews on his hair. Also, I imagine Thranduil as looking like movie Thranduil. Mostly because I love Lee pace. I think they portrayed him pretty well in the movies, other then some things, like his view on the silvan elves, which isn't really realistic. So this is book verse, but with elements of movie verse Thranduil. Plus I really liked how Mirkwood looked int the movies. It was pretty. Anyway, imagine it as you will. It's the readers job to imagine a story anyway, so for all I care Thranduil could have a Mohawk in your vision of him:) Okay, I imagine Legolas as being born in the year 1059 of the third age. The year that the shadow fell on Mirkwood. That would make him 1,968 years old at the time of the war of the ring. Still fairly young really, but I imagine him as a younger elf. Anyway, enjoy!

Thranduil stared down at his tiny son, so delicate, so helpless. He gently stroked his soft hair. Deep burnished gold, near brown. It felt like the down of a baby bird. With a soft sob he knelt down and kissed Legolas' little head, reveling in the soft infant scent that seemed to surround his son. His eyes were closed, long dark lashes resting against his tiny cheeks. Thranduil admired his perfect little hands, and his ears, tapering into such delicate points. Legolas emitted a soft cooing sigh and turned onto his back, slowly opening his wide eyes and staring up at him. He gave a gentle yawn and blinked slowly. After a moments hesitation he reached up for him, his small arms straining. Thranduil lifted him into his arms, holding his tiny son against him and closing his eyes. Trying to stop the tears. Calithiliel. He kept turning expecting to see her standing behind him, her dark brown hair falling in strands around her face, and tumbling over her shoulders. He kept imagining he heard her bright laugh, and would turn, expecting to see her sparkling green eyes. So like Legolas'. But she was gone. Cruel fate that had ripped her from them, so soon after the birth of their son. He had worried when she had said she wanted fresh air. Told her he wanted her to rest a while longer, so soon after their son was born. It had been a hard birth. But she had touched his cheek and reassured him that she only wished to step outside of the gates, to show Legolas the moon and stars. He had made her promise to wait for him. But there had been a long meeting that evening, and she had slipped out with Legolas, leaving a note on their table telling him where she was. He had immediately gone to join her. But when he had strode through the gates he hadn't seen her. Still he had ignored his worry. The guards had been gone, switching rotations, so he had just set off to find her, unburdened by worry. The land around their caves was safe. But then he had heard the scream. Long, clear beautiful even in it's terror. Calithiliel. She had been dead already when he reached her. The corpses of six orcs strewn around her. But the seventh orc held a blade dripping with her blood. She was still clutching Legolas in her nut brown arms, and he was crying, wailing, the blood of his mother soaking around him, mingling with the blood of orcs. The last orc had died in an instant, it's head hewed clean off. Everything after that was but a blur. He remembered collapsing to his knees, tearing his son from Calithiliel's lifeless arms. He remembered trying to shake her, to shake life back into her. Holding her against him and feeling her warm blood seep from her chest onto his robe. She had killed her attackers, and saved her son. Her long knives lay nearby, one on the ground, one stuck in an orcs head. He had crouched on the ground clasping his son and his dead wife against him. The guards had found him like that, soaked with blood and half mad with grief. That was three weeks ago now. They had buried her under the willow that she had so loved. He had kept her knives. Someday they would be for Legolas. He hated himself. Cursed himself for allowing her to die. Her smile so bright, her laugh so clear, here eyes so filled with life. He had come upon her and seen those eyes glossed over. He had so many questions he wished to ask her. And he never could. Why the orcs had been there he knew not. But in every direction he had sent his patrols. As soon as he was ready to leave Legolas he would go as well. Every orc in his forest would die by his blade. Every one. The orcs had torn at her. The last one had cut half of her nose off. He shut his eyes, trying to fight back the reckless hate growing inside of him. He had not once been parted from Legolas since that day. His son was with him everywhere he went. Not that he left his chambers much. In fact, in the weeks since, he had only ventured forth two times. Legolas slept in his bed, so empty now without Calithiliel's warm form. Every night he sang to his son. They had given him a special milk to feed Legolas. To replace that of his mother's. Legolas gave another soft coo and shifted his small weight in his father's arms, taking hold of a strand of Thranduil's hair and sucking on it.

"We'll be alright Legolas." he kissed his son's head again, sitting down on the bed. "Everything is going to be alright. I'll always be here for you. Always." There was a knock on the door. Thranduil didn't move.

"Who is it?"

"Dorothor My Lord."

"And what do you need?"

"There are two emissaries from Imladris my lord."

"What do they want?"

"I don't know in full My Lord. They wish to speak to you."

"I am busy."

"My Lord. Please. You are needed. I know that you grieve, but please. Dark things are

stirring."

Thranduil lifted his head. He did not want to leave, or even to move. But he couldn't ignore the truth in Dorothor's words. With a heavy sigh he stood up.

"Allow me to get ready then. Tell them I'll be with them soon."

"Thank you. Should I get someone to watch the prince?"

"No. he stays with me."

Thranduil dully set to making himself presentable. He hadn't fully dressed or untangled his hair since Calithiliel's death. He hadn't bothered looking in his mirror. Now he did. He was indeed a frightening sight. Hair matted and wild, eyes sunken, robes dirty and in disarray. He set the sleeping Legolas down on his bed and set to the task of looking like a king. His crown was flowers in bloom. Spring. He had almost forgotten that it was spring.

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His footfalls rang across the hall of the throne room. The emissaries stood to greet him. Two, one male, one female. He saw their eyes drift to Legolas, who he held safely settled in his arms. They bowed their heads.

"My Lord. My name is Hinnoreth. Greetings from Imladris. And our deepest sympathies for your recent loss. Words cannot describe the sorrow. We are sorry to disturb you now." " her hair was black and surprisingly short, not even reaching her shoulders, her eyes sharp and dark. She was distinctly tall, and looked ill at ease. He nodded stiffly to her.

"Greetings and welcome." he turned to the other emissary. "And what is your name?"

"Idhremen my Lord." He was still looking at Legolas, his gray eyes wide. Thranduil eyed him carefully. Small, shorter then most he had seen, with a slight build and smooth brown hair. He had a quiet countenance. He looked particularly short next to his tall companion.

"I see you are curious. This is my son. Legolas, prince of the greenwood." He looked Idhremen in the eyes pointedly.

"Forgive my husband for staring my Lord. It is just that we have not seen many elflings. And we hope for a child of our own." Hinnoreth tried to smile at him, but seemed to be out of practice at it.

"No forgiveness is needed. What are you here for?" He wanted to get this over with. The emissaries eyes each other nervously.

"Lord Elrond sent us to speak with you about the recent darkness that has fallen on Taur-e-Ndaedelos."

"What darkness do you speak off?" He turned away, gently readjusting Legolas.

"My Lord. News has come to us of a spreading shadow. Men have started to call your forest Mirkwood. Orcs grow bolder. Surely you know this?" Idhremen's voice was low and imploring. Thranduil liked it not at all.

"Yes. This is my realm. I know what goes on in it. Do you take me for a fool?"

"No my Lord. But he takes you for one lost in grief." Hinnoreth's voice was steely. She crossed her arms. "And when lost in grief one forgets things."

"I am not a fool so grief stricken that I canot-" he was cut off by Legolas, who gently yawned and opened his eyes. He blinked a few times, taking in his surroundings. His bright gray-green eyes, so deep and alive, shining with life, found the two emissaries and widened in surprise. He still had not seen many other elves in his short life. He let out a small squeal and smiled. The two emissaries immediately changed. Idhremen seemed to be melting, smiling so wide that his whole face was near cracked in half. And Hinnoreth eyes had softened, her mouth curving upwards. Thranduil had yet to meet an elf who didn't soften at the sight of an elfling. He could feel his own anger softening under the curious gaze of his tiny son.

"He's beautiful..." Idhremen's voice was soft and filled with wonder.

"Yes...He has his mother's eyes."

"They're like young green leaves." Idhremen was transfixed. Hinnoreth subtly nudged her husband, who started and then stood straight again. Legolas let out a small squeal and reached out towards him.

"Oh! What do you need little one?" Idhremen was beaming again.

"I think he sees your broach." Hinnoreth gestured to the small silver bird pinned upon her husbands breast. Without hesitation Idhremen removed it and held it out towards Legolas.

"A gift for the new prince." He looked at Thranduil, waiting for him to take it. Thranduil paused a moment, before nodding and gently taking the brooch, carefully placing it in his son's tiny hands. Legolas couldn't fully control his movements, so he had to hold it for him, half pressed in his small grasp.

"Thank you." He tried to smile at the Idhremen.

"It is my pleasure."

Legolas' eyes were wide with delight. Thranduil felt a tiny bit of warmth spread through him. He looked back to the emissaries.

"You must be weary from your journey. And I do not wish my son to be present for the discussion we must have. Rest tonight, eat and drink, and regain your strength. Tomorrow morning we shall speak further of the spreading shadow."

"Very well My lord. Thank you." Hinnoreth seemed distressed, most like due to the delay. But she simply nodded. Thranduil turned to the guards standing in the entrance.

"Bring my guests to their chambers, and see to it that they have every comfort."

"It will be done Thran-my king." Rhochanar quickly corrected himself. He was used to referring to him by name. They had grown up almost as brothers.

"Sleep well." Thranduil turned swiftly and hurried back to his chambers. When there he sat down on the bed. Darkness spreading. He knew it was true. The orcs were bolder. Like the ones that had killed Calithiliel. The forest's light was dimming. Would Legolas know what their home was like before the shadow, or would he grow up in the darkening woods? Thranduil kissed his head and gently rocked him back and fourth.

"It will be aright my son. The light will come again."

So, chapter one. Hope y'all liked it! Please tell me what you think. If any of you all read "Wanderer" you may recognize that brooch. It's the one Legolas gave Ailith. Continuity. Also, I've grown rather fond of the husband wife team who appeared here. Expect to see more of them.


End file.
